


Having and Holding

by sharked



Category: Naruto
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Flailing, Fluff, M/M, MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020, Marriage Proposal, failing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharked/pseuds/sharked
Summary: Uchiha Madara's handy-dandy guide to handling an arranged marriage with decorum, wit, and grace. Please use responsibly.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 14
Kudos: 375
Collections: MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020





	Having and Holding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiyaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyaru/gifts).



> For [kaiyaru-art](https://kaiyaru-art.tumblr.com/), responsible for some of the most ridiculously adorable art in this fandom.
> 
> In some other universe, Butsuma and Tajima decided to become drinking buddies instead of mortal enemies. So instead of bloody murder, we get arranged marriage hijinks. Enjoy.

“Madara. Is there any way this can wait?” Tobirama sounded just as exhausted as he looked. Which was fair, since he barely had a chance to shed his travel-stained armor before Madara came charging through the door and dragged him back out.

Madara looked at the dark circles under his eyes and felt a guilty pang, but shoved it away. Later. He’d been trying for months to figure out the right way to tell him. Maybe even a year, and wasn’t that a kick to the rear to think about--a year of begging advice off of everyone who knew the two of them, a year of threatening people into silence and turning the countryside inside out for presents and pulling at his hair trying to figure out a way to just come out and say what he wanted to say.

But Madara kept putting it off, and Tobirama made things worse by being nearly a week overdue on his latest mission, and now they only had the one evening left before the wedding ceremony began, and by then it would be _too late_.

“Nope!” he said with forced cheer. And all right, maybe it came out a bit manic if the wary look Tobirama gave him was anything to go by. “Come on Senju, the night’s still young. Just one last thing to talk about and then I’ll let you sleep.”

“And we couldn’t talk about it indoors?” he muttered, but Madara pretended not to hear. Instead he led them through the maze of half-constructed buildings that made up their new village. He waved off any clansmen who recognized them and tried to stop them to offer greetings or congratulations, mind fixed on their destination.

They came to a stop in one of a dozen areas that had yet to start construction, with only a few markers to indicate the boundaries of a future building. Tobirama looked around, still confused. “We had to come out here for a conversation? Madara, there’s nothing here.”

“Not yet, there isn’t. You don’t know what this place is?”

He could see the gears grinding in Tobirama’s head, building a mental map. Red eyes flickered back and forth, taking in the surrounding landmarks and using them as reference points. Even exhausted and irritated, it wasn’t long until the realization clicked. “This is part of where the Uchiha compound will be. So this must be--”

“Where our house is going to be, yes.” Madara spread his arms out as if presenting something grand, even if it was an empty plot of land.

“Of course.” Tobirama scruffed a hand through his hair, still looking around absently. “I must confess I’ve been neglecting our own living arrangements in favor of everything else that the village requires. Though Anija has mentioned that you might have taken over designing the blueprints…?”

‘Might have.’ Hah. That was surprising tactful of Hashirama, considering how many hours of his time Madara had commandeered in pursuit of creating the perfect home for the man standing in front of him. Even Hashirama’s eternal smile had started looking a little strained at the edges recently when he saw Madara coming, and that was saying something.

No matter. Tobirama had his fingers in every other possible project when it came to building the village, whether it was sewage treatment or surveying land or courting outside civilian commercial interests. Not to mention the missions he ran as one of the Senju’s most talented ninja. No matter how much he clearly loved the work, the relentless demand on his time and energy clearly wore him thin. This was one concern Madara could take off his mind.

“He helped give some input on the design, but yes. I’ve been working on the blueprints. When it’s finished, this is where we’ll live. Together. As a--married couple.” Damn it, did he have to stumble on that? He cleared his throat and gestured vaguely to his left, towards the rest of the village. “Ah. The front entrance will be here, and I was thinking it would open into a central area here, with the kitchen connecting over there--”

He led Tobirama around the area, waving his arms to point out that there, they might have a sitting area for receiving guests, or there, the light was particularly good and might be suited for a small library. He must have looked ridiculous, hopping from one imaginary room to another and flapping his arms at empty space, but Tobirama was gracious enough not to point it out. Or maybe he really was that tired. Madara shook the thought from his head and pressed on.

They ended on the far edge of the property, where Madara planned to have their future garden. He pointed out a small pond beside them--little more than a puddle, really, with some desultory horsetail rushes and weeds poking out. He winced as the mud squelched under his sandals before he adjusted his chakra output to walk more smoothly over it.

“I asked Touka and Izuna, and they both mentioned how you like meditating by the koi pond at your house, so I thought we could dig one here,” he babbled, and dear gods, he really was babbling, wasn’t he? “And Hashirama offered to grow a few peach trees since you like them so much, he said something about how the soil was good for it here but I wasn’t really listening, every time he starts talking about acidity levels he loses me--” Someone please stop him. He glanced over at Tobirama, half-afraid of his reaction, and lost his train of thought. Because Tobirama…

Tobirama looked _charmed_. Tired still, yes, but also like he was perfectly content to stay there and listen to Madara blather on despite that.

Which, of course, was when Madara forgot what he was going to say next. “So, uh. Trees. Here.” If the gods knew mercy, they would strike him with a lightning bolt then and there.

“I see.” Tobirama hummed, studying the ground. His eyebrows furrowed. “I appreciate that you want to involve me in this, Madara, and thank you. But I’ve been meaning to ask. Why are there petals falling out of your clothes?”

What.

Madara slipped his hand up his sleeve and cringed. Well shit.

“Um.”

Gingerly, he pulled out the flower crown he had carefully tucked up around his arm earlier in the evening. They both looked at the little braided circle, still shedding petals as a few sad, stubborn blooms clung on. He shook out his sleeve and stared forlornly at the shower of white and blue petals that fell out.

In retrospect, all that enthusiastic waving and running around might not have not been the best idea when you have flowers hidden on your person.

“Forget-me-nots,” Tobirama observed. He held out a hand to trace the stems, careful not to dislodge them any further. “And anemones. I see someone has been teaching you hanakotoba. The irises?”

“They’re water flowers.” Madara shuffled his feet, toeing a horsetail. “They reminded me of you.”

This was not at all going how he’d planned it.

“I was going to ask you to marry me,” he said.

Tobirama blinked.

“Madara,” he said carefully. “You are aware that we are already getting married. Tomorrow, in fact.”

“Yes, I know that. I know. I just.” He waved the crown and winced when a few more petals fell off. Damn it all. He scrubbed at his hair in frustration. “But. You’re marrying me because you’re being ordered to do it. Because we have a peace treaty, and our clans need this. Because--because our fathers said we have to. But--”

He held out the sorry handful of braided twigs, now almost completely denuded of flowers. “I just wanted a chance to be the one to ask you. If you’d marry me for me. Because. Yeah.” By now his head had sunk so low he was grumbling into his collar, his face so hot it felt like it might sizzle right through the fabric.

Lightning bolt. Here, now. Truly this was proof the gods hated him.

Then there was a hand at his wrist, fingers callused and gentle. When Tobirama spoke he did so slowly, as if considering each word one by one.

“While it’s true that our fathers chose this arrangement, I would like to make one thing clear. Yes, I am marrying you for these reasons. But--” here he squeezed Madara’s wrist, “This is one way I am happy to serve. I can think of worse things than being with someone as earnest and dedicated as you. And if you--ah--”

Tobirama _blushed_. 

“If you were to ask me to marry you for your own sake, I would be pleased to do so.”

Madara stared.

This was a revelation. Tobirama saying yes--or something close to yes, of course that was wonderful. Amazing. But also, Tobirama was a _horrible_ blusher. Being so pale did him zero favors, since it meant there was nothing to hide how his face turned blotchy and uneven even in the dim evening light. It was fantastic. Madara needed to figure out a way to make this happen every day, _immediately_.

Crap, he was still talking. And looking at Madara expectantly.

“Uh.”

Tobirama’s lips twitched. Madara watched uncomprehendingly as he lifted their joined hands, nestling that sad flower crown safely in his pale hair. “As I was saying, perhaps now would be a good time to ask me.” His voice was calm, but the way that ridiculous blush deepened and his fingers twitched around Madara’s wrist spoke otherwise. It was unreasonably adorable.

He needed to kiss him. No one that adorable should go un-kissed. It was a moral imperative.

But first things first. Madara had practiced this. This, more than presents or houses or anything else, was important. Like hell he was going to screw this up.

“This man, I wed,” he blurted.

Tobirama froze stiff.

Fuck fuck fuck.

 _Tobirama will be an Uchiha,_ Touka had told him, serious in a way she rarely was with him. Usually when they spoke she treated Madara with amused tolerance, like she knew something he didn’t and enjoyed watching him flail about in search of a clue. But there was no trace of a smile on her lips then. _He’s known this since you were children. Everything he was born to, everything he was raised to serve and love--all that will be gone once he marries you. Senju Tobirama will be dead, and Uchiha Tobirama will remain._

_But you can give him this much._

A Senju’s crown, a Senju’s wedding vows. Madara fell in love with _Senju_ Tobirama. He’d thought that if he did this right, maybe he could make it clear that Tobirama didn’t have to lose any part of himself when he married. That Madara wanted everything of him, for him.

But if Tobirama didn’t want this--or worse, if he thought Madara was making _fun_ of him--

“To him.”

Um. Madara blinked. “What?” 

Tobirama inched closer, almost nose-to-nose. And maybe it was a little hard to tell when they were this close together, but he didn’t _seem_ too offended. In fact, it almost looked like he was smiling. “What comes next, Madara?”

Oh.

Oh!

“Ah. To him.” Madara squeezed his eyes shut, thinking furiously. This was ridiculous. He was an Uchiha, his memory was supposed to be outstanding. He was _literally bred_ to remember things, not stumble over a few lines. “To him. Right. To him. To him, I pledge my affections, unending. My devotions, unyielding. My loyalties, undying. To him, I would bring joy, give honors, grant trust.”

He squinted one eye open and immediately regretted it. Because yes, that was definitely a smile on Tobirama’s face. But little gods preserve him, words were _hard_ when you had someone like Tobirama looking at you _like that_. “M-May he know only the sweetest of waters and the soft bounty of fire from this union. May he find his welcome at the hearth and home I raise for him, with the silks and rushes I lay at his feet.”

He stuttered again, feeling soft breath against his lips, someone else’s hair brushing against his face. Anticipation made his thoughts churn faster, made words harder to remember and easier to speak. “May he walk through this world knowing he is loved and beloved, here and hereafter.” He eased his eyes open again and breathed out the last line with a sigh of relief. “For I am his, and he is mine.”

Tobirama didn’t speak.

Madara waited.

It took a long few moments, where Madara didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, the two of them still so close he could count each long, pale lash. And then, finally,

“This man, I wed.”

He exhaled. And all right, maybe it was a little loud, because Tobirama’s shoulders shook as he recited the next line. With his lovely red eyes fixed on Madara’s, he reached up and carefully felt along the flower crown Madara had placed around his head. Just as carefully, he teased out one of the few remaining river irises and tucked it into Madara’s hair.

“May he walk through this world knowing he is loved and beloved, here and hereafter,” he murmured in his ear, sending shudders up and down Madara’s spine. His hands went around Tobirama’s waist, pulling him in close and he reveled in how easily the other man leaned into the motion.

“For I am his, and he is mine,” he heard, and finally, finally he could kiss him.

Or try to.

Madara would deny to his dying day that he tried to dip Tobirama for their first kiss. Or that he forgot just how soft the ground was next to that infernal pond. Or that when he slipped and overbalanced them both, he dropped his newly-wedded husband right into the mud before falling on top of him with a strangled yelp.

He _would_ concede that he was a damn lucky man that Tobirama decided to take the situation with good humor instead of drowning him then and there, because that was exactly what happened. Madara pressed his face into a warm, strong shoulder and tried not to die of embarrassment, instead listening to the sound of Tobirama’s laughter, open and unrestrained.

“I really don’t know why I expected any better,” he grumbled. He levered himself up onto his elbows, and a part of him melted when he saw that when they fell, one of Tobirama’s hands had gone up to protect that damn sorry excuse of a flower crown.

Tobirama made no effort to get up, chest still heaving with mirth. Face red and hair smeared with muck, and he was still unfairly beautiful. 

Damn it all, Madara really was gone on this man.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tobirama said. “This seems fairly in line with everything else that’s happened so far.”

He took it back. Apparently he’d just married an _asshole_ , and he told him so. Tobirama responded by drawing him back down.

Later, Madara thought. He could be embarrassed later. Right now there were more important things to think about. Like how solid Tobirama felt underneath him, and the way good humor and moonlight softened the lines of his face. Like the way his new husband coaxed him first into reluctant, then ready laughter, teasing him with words and lips until they both broke down snickering at each other. Like how perfectly the word ‘husband’ suited them both.

There would be more than enough things to worry about later. Like how tomorrow they would be formally married under the eyes of their two clans.

Tomorrow, there would be hairdressers chasing them with pins and priests fussing about protocol and meddling siblings and a slew of political well-wishers looking to get a last word in to contend with.

Tomorrow, Hashirama would get horrendously drunk and flood the reception hall with flowers and his weepy congratulations, snagging anyone stupid enough to pass by with vines so he could cry into their shoulders. Izuna would venture a step too close and promptly set Hashirama’s hair on fire.

Tomorrow, Senju Butsuma and Uchiha Tajima would get into a shouting match, then an arm-wrestling match, then a fistfight, before disappearing on a four-day bender that would end with them resurfacing in a dive bar off the coast of Waterfall Country with a dozen warrants for arrest racked up between them.

Tomorrow, there would be property damage and brawling and metaphorical and literal fires to put out as two clans celebrated the end of centuries of war in a way only battle-trained ninja knew how.

But this one night could be for just the two of them. This one night, Madara could crown his husband with a handful of twigs and kiss him next to a muddy pond, nothing but promises and shared laughter between them.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been fiddling with this for weeks now, and I'm still not sure I'm 100% pleased with it. I might come back once I'm less congested and have had some time to step back. Maybe add another chapter or two for context. But this is already ridiculously late as it is, so happy MadaTobi Gift Month y'all, hope it was a good one!
> 
> (Seriously though. Go check out [Kaiyaru's art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyaru/pseuds/Kaiyaru), if you haven't already. That there's the good stuff.)


End file.
